A Rose By Any Other Name
by Sedentary Wordsmith
Summary: What's in a name? That which we call an L by any other name would still be as dead. Not that it really matters: he can no longer remember his name anyway. A brief, but sad, history of the boy known as L.


A Rose by Any Other Name

This was inspired by reading _Death Note: Another Note, The Los Angeles BB Murder Cases_. I borrowed several elements from it and elaborated on them, but it's not at all necessary to read that to make sense of this. Fans of the book may recognize them, from pages 43-44, 152, 170. Namely, page 43. (Haha, I made a pun.) I also got the idea of "L's Shadow" from _Death Note 13, How to Read_, page 60. It was Tsugumi Ohba's original idea.

**A Rose by Any Other Name**

x.x.x.x.x

Name

x.x.x.x.x

Quillsh Wammy followed the line of the other man's arm to the black-haired boy being pointed at. "Is that him?"

"Yes, sir," the orphanage director answered. "Like I told you over the phone earlier, he refuses to tell us his name, so we've been having to refer to him only as John Doe. He says he knows his name, but for some reason…"

"I understand," Wammy interrupted, though really he didn't.

"…Yes. So. When we realized how…special…he is, we immediately thought to call you. We thought that you would be better suited to care for him, since you…" the orphanage director trailed off.

"Yes, of course," Wammy nodded, removing his hat and coat and hanging them on a peg near the door. "I believe I'll go speak to him now, if that's alright…?"

The director hurriedly nodded. "Yes, of course! Go right ahead."

Wammy stepped forward into the common room where the boy in question was sitting by himself in the far corner. All the other children were playing loudly on the opposite side of the room, an almost visible line drawn between them. Wammy found himself strangely unsure of who was secluding whom.

He crouched down in front of the solitary eight-year old boy and smiled kindly. "Hello, child. My name is Wammy. What's yours?"

The child didn't look up. Unbeknownst to the elderly man, he had already studied him and memorized his features the moment he entered the doorway. "It's a secret."

"It is? Why is that?"

The boy continued on with the sudoku puzzle he had been solving, still not looking up. Wammy struggled to see his eyes beneath the mane of wild black hair. "That is a secret as well."

"Oh? Then what am I supposed to call you?"

"The director and workers here have been calling me John Doe."

"That is a horrible name for a child."

"Then you may call me whatever you wish."

"Really, now?" Wammy continued to smile, teasingly. "Then I may call you Miss Susan?" He carefully watched for a reaction.

There wasn't one. The child didn't so much as twitch in response. "If you wish. Though I feel obliged to inform you that Susan is typically a girl's name, and I am not one."

"So is there some name you would rather be called?" Nothing. "Is there a reason why you cannot tell me your name?"

The child seemed to pause, though his hand continued to move, filling in numbers with the pen he held oddly by the tips of his fingers. "…Because it is dangerous."

"For whom?" Wammy asked, feeling as though they might be getting somewhere.

"For me. And therefore, the world," he answered unexpectedly.

"Why is that?"

"You will understand someday, Mr. Wammy."

"I will? How do you know that?"

"Because I have a feeling that you and I are going to get along splendidly."

Wammy nearly fell backwards. They were? He wasn't one to be pessimistic, but if the current conversation were any indicator of future relationships, he didn't think so. The child hadn't even chosen to make eye contact with him yet. He regained his tongue—and balance—and said, "Well, in order to do that, I think I will have to know your name."

"Why? No matter my name, I will still be me. It does not matter what I am called—it will not change who I am on the inside."

Wammy foundered for words for a second. The child certainly did have a valid point… "Because a name is…a small sort of way for someone to get to know you better. Your name is a part of your identity, and without it, you can never truly be known."

The boy looked up, and Wammy finally got a good look at his face, though he still didn't make eye contact. "Is that so…?" the boy seemed to ask himself, slowly bringing a thumb to his lips. His gaze finally swung over to the old man, his large round eyes fixing on Wammy's smaller, squinted ones. "In that case, you may call me whatever you wish."

x.x.x.x.x

Birth

x.x.x.x.x

Three weeks later, Wammy raised his eyes from the file on his desk and nearly jumped when he saw two round black holes staring back at him. Three whole weeks and Wammy still couldn't hear the child's footsteps coming.

The boy perched on the chair on the far side of the desk with his legs drawn up to his chest, loosely clutching a newspaper in two fingers and watching the elderly man with wide, listless eyes. He had probably been sitting there, perfectly silent, for several minutes until Wammy chanced to notice him.

"Do you need something, Child?" Wammy asked, trying to hide his surprise. He had a feeling the child had seen it anyway.

The boy took this opportunity to drop the folded newspaper onto Wammy's desk and slide it forward with one finger. "Please look at the front article."

Wammy quirked a brow, but did as he was told, unfolding the paper to read the headline. "Winchester Mad Bombings Continue to Terrorize Citizens." And smaller, underneath it, "Detectives remain baffled." He looked back to the boy.

"I would like to solve this case."

Wammy's other eyebrow shot up to join the first. There was no trace of emotion on the child's face—jocularity or otherwise. "You do, do you?"

"I do."

"I see. Have you ever solved a case before?"

"I have not."

"Do you have any clues?"

"I do not."

"Then—"

"Yet."

Wammy shut his mouth.

"Of course, there is also the matter of an alias."

"An alias? For whom?" Wammy couldn't help but ask.

"For me. Of course the police would never take seriously an eight-year old child, even were he to present them with a plausible solution to the case." He bit his thumb. "This is where we shall use modern technology to our advantage in making myself conspicuously anonymous."

Wammy blinked.

"I will be called L." The child declared with finality. "Though I am sure I will need other names, as well…"

"L?" Wammy asked. "Just the letter, L?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"That is a secret."

The old man nodded in acceptance. He was growing used to the child's secrets, and had quickly learned not to pry. "All right. I suppose it does have a certain…ring to it. And it fits with a detective who is to be conspicuously anonymous, as you say."

"Thank you. There is also the matter of a middle-man."

"Middle-man?"

"L's spokesperson, if you will," the boy explained. "L will need someone in the middle who can make contact with the police for him."

"Oh, I see. And who will you get to play this part?"

"I would be honored if you would accept it, Mr. Wammy."

"Me?"

He went back to biting his thumb in thought, almost talking to himself. "Of course, you will also need an alias and a disguise, so you cannot be traced back to me."

"I get an alias?" Wammy was ashamed to admit that he was almost childishly excited at the idea.

"Yes, if you accept. I'm sure we can come up with something suitable…"

"What about…Shadow?" Wammy suggested.

The boy looked up in doubt. "Shadow?"

"Yes. That way, I can be L's Shadow."

The child made a face of surprised disgust, one of the few expressions Wammy had seen on him yet. "Please. Please no."

Wammy reluctantly conceded. "All right. Well, we have time to think of something else."

Relief washed over the child's face before it returned to its normal listless state. "Yes." He picked his newspaper back up before dismounting from his chair and silently heading for the door to Wammy's office. He stopped with his fingers on the knob. "Mr. Wammy?"

"Yes? What is it, Child?"

He offered a small, but genuine, smile. "Thank you."

Wammy returned it warmly. "You are most welcome, Child. You're very special, and I know you will change the world someday."

x.x.x.x.x

Precedent

x.x.x.x.x

"Is there anything else you need?" Wammy asked.

The boy in front of him sat with his legs tucked up on the chair with him, looking over all the new equipment in his room: a computer with a voice-changing program, a microphone, and two monitors. He seemed to be well-pleased. "No, there is nothing for now. You have provided me with everything I need. Thank you, Wammy."

Wammy smiled broadly. "It is my pleasure. I know that you will do great good with it. Now, I'll leave you to the case…"

"Wait! Wammy…There is one thing." Wammy raised an eyebrow for him to continue. The child looked at him with wide, serious eyes. "I would like some coffee, please. Black."

"…Of course."

"Thank you."

x.x.x.x.x

Cyclic

x.x.x.x.x

Three days later, Wammy had lost count of the number of cups of coffee the boy had drunk. Even the special supply of coffee beans he had had to make a separate trip into town for had almost disappeared.

He entered the sparse room to see the boy, with an empty coffee mug sitting beside him. He looked up a few seconds after the old man's entrance, and Wammy noted for the first time that dark circles were beginning to form under the round eyes.

"Ah, Wammy, I'm glad you are here. I've solved the case."

"When was the last time you slept, Child?" Wammy asked, his parental instincts temporarily overcoming his surprise at the news.

"Wednesday night, I believe," the boy answered without hesitation. "The coffee helps."

"Three nights ago?" Wammy exclaimed. "Before you started the case!"

"Yes. Speaking of the case, I would like you to get in contact with the Chief of Police for me, and tell him I've solved it."

Wammy fell silent, simply staring at the dark circles. This child…This little boy, with only eight years in his body, already possessed such a mind that would not allow him a moment's respite until the case was solved, the mystery unraveled, the bad guy brought to justice. It made Wammy proud…and a little sad.

"I will do that now."

"Thank you."

When Wammy returned the boy's room, he was fast asleep with his face in his knees. Wammy only smiled and carried him to his bed, where he didn't stir until the next evening.

x.x.x.x.x

Bitter

x.x.x.x.x

Three years later, Wammy was certain that the boy known as L had consumed more coffee than a small country could in an entire year. And the more coffee disappeared, the darker the bags under round eyes became.

He had stopped drinking it black almost as soon as he started. Wammy remembered the first time the boy had added sugar: It was after a particularly trying case with a rather unpleasant result. The boy hadn't said anything since he solved it, and sat merely staring at the black liquid in his cup. Then without a word, he took the sugar shaker and poured it into his coffee until the white heap rose above the level of liquid.

He drank it just like that, still making a face at the bitterness of it all.

x.x.x.x.x

Crushed

x.x.x.x.x

Wammy lowered the paper he had been reading and turned back to the front page. "ICPO Declares L Best Detective In World" the headline read. Underneath it was a picture of a black Old English L on a white background—the only identifier of L to the public.

"Congratulations, _L_. You're now officially the greatest detective in the world." He smiled at the boy across from him.

The eleven-year old didn't respond. He only stood, slowly, and when he did, he remained slumped over with his shoulders hunched. He swayed a bit as he stood, and gripped onto the back of his chair for support.

Wammy noticed this with concern, his smile instantly falling away. "Are you alright, Child?"

"It's heavier than I thought it would be," he answered unexpectedly.

"What is?" Wammy asked, unconsciously edging forward.

"The weight of the world."

Wammy was unprepared to catch him as he fell.

x.x.x.x.x

Hero

x.x.x.x.x

_"What is a hero, Watari?"_

_On the monitor before him, a fireman descended a ladder with a child in his arms, safely rescued from a burning apartment building. The headline at the bottom of the screen boldly declared him a hero._

_"Why do you ask?" No response. He hadn't been expecting one. "A hero is…someone who does something that everyone else is too cowardly or too weak to do. A hero is brave and strong and can do anything he sets his mind to. The hero always triumphs in the end. …Does that answer your question?" The unasked one._

_A long pause as he deliberated this. "…Yes. Thank you, Watari. That is what I thought, too."_

x.x.x.x.x

Identity

x.x.x.x.x

_"L, is it? Why L?"_

_"That is a secret."_

_"Is it because it's close to your real name?"_

_"Hmm…I suppose you could say that, of all the names I might have chosen, L may identify me the best."_

_"All right. Shall I call you L, then?"_

_"L is no more my true name than is Danuve or Erald Coil or Ryuzaki or any of the others. It is merely the most famous, influential, and powerful of my aliases. It identifies me as a person no more than they."_

_"Then what is it you wish to be called?"_

_"You may call me whatever you wish."_

_"I see…Child."_

x.x.x.x.x

Eyeballs

x.x.x.x.x

"Shinigami-san…"

Rem looked up at the sedentary detective, her one eye wide at being addressed. His eyes were drooping and he had a small frown on his face. She couldn't decide whether he was tired or sad. "Yes?"

"Is it true that your eyes can see the name of any human you see?"

Rem's eye narrowed at the question. This line of interrogation could easily prove dangerous for Misa… "Yes, if we can see their face."

"I see…So you can see my name?"

Where was he going with this? This human was almost as hard to read as Light Yagami. "Yes."

"Shinigami-san…I am wondering if you can do something for me."

Rem started. "I have no obligation to. And it depends on if it's against the rules."

"I understand. But I am wondering…if you could…tell me my name. You can see it, can you not?" His pale face was schooled into impassiveness, but Rem thought she detected an urgency in those flat black eyes.

What was he planning? It was undoubtedly part of some scheme to convict Misa, but how? How could he use this?

"I'm afraid I have forgotten it…" he said, seemingly to himself.

It was too dangerous. She would not play along with his game. "I cannot tell a human any name I see with my eyes, even their own. It's against the rules."

He looked surprised, then disappointed. Rem wondered if he believed her. "…I understand. That will be all for now." He stood and left her alone in the monitor room.

x.x.x.x.x

Mirror

x.x.x.x.x

_'Hundreds of names I've used over the years, and the only one I've never gone by is the one that is going to kill me…'_

x.x.x.x.x

Wish

x.x.x.x.x

Wammy looked up from his computer, spinning around when he heard the door open and someone silently enter. (Seventeen years and he still couldn't hear him coming.) He immediately took in the tired posture, the hanging arms, and the downcast eyes. "What is it, Ryuzaki? …What's wrong?"

"Watari…I cannot…remember…"

"Remember what, Child?"

"My name," he answered in a whisper.

Wammy's face fell. There was little he could do. "…You are you, and always will be, no matter the name. You possess the greatest mind in the world, and the greatest sense of justice I've ever seen. You've put thousands of criminals behind bars and saved countless lives. You've changed the world, Child. None of that will change with a name. It is who _you_ are, the person _behind_ the name."

The young man still did not look up. "…Thank you, Watari. For everything."

_'I only wish I had told you my name, all those years ago.'_

x.x.x.x.x

Victory

x.x.x.x.x

And as he lay in Kira's arms, his failing heart slowing and his tired eyes shutting for the last time, he couldn't help the smile that wanted to cross his sluggish lips.

_'You may have won this time, Kira…But I am the hero. And the hero always prevails in the end. I have really won this…Because…I…I remembered. My name…is…'_

xXxXx

End.


End file.
